It was lonely living in the lighthouse.
She passed the time making art out of sea shells–picture frames and bowls. On the main level was a living room and a kitchen, a place to be and a place to be nourished, and a spiral staircase that led up toward two bedrooms, a place to rest. Above that, the light.
This was her work in the world. A compact life, physically nothing more or less than the basics of what was needed. She was a member of a family of light keepers, shining light for safe passage through the darkness.
Of all that could have been said, they told of her loneliness. “Sometimes it’s lonely in the lighthouse.” So I imagine this is what she longed for… Call back to me! Tell me that you see me. What do you see when I shine my light? Who do you say that I am?
Even the light keeper needs to see her own light, the kind that is reflected in friendship. A trusted friend, one who could see her, one who would listen, one she would recognize as the face of God through kindness.
I wonder if the sea ever whispered these things to her? I see the hole in the world that you fill. I see your brilliance, your light. Without you, the world would be dim. The sea would be dark. You, my friend, make a difference. You matter. Sometimes those are the words we need to hear to continue on in our own work in the lighthouse.
The eyes must see, the heart must feel and the ears, too, must sometimes hear…You matter.
It’s a beautiful world! What do you do or say to help someone know, they matter?
Image credit: Cabrillo National Monument Lighthouse ©2013 Marie LaForce
You can find these lighthouse stairs at Cabrillo National Monument just south of San Diego in California.